


full windsor

by princesskay



Series: fragile (handle with force) [7]
Category: Mindhunter (TV 2017)
Genre: Anal Sex, Bondage, Episode Related, Established Relationship, Forced Masturbation, M/M, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 05:41:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21192488
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/princesskay/pseuds/princesskay
Summary: Following the Devier confession, Holden tests his - and Bill's - limits.





	full windsor

**Author's Note:**

> This is partially a prompt fill from the MH Discord server (initially mentioned by Frankie, but was also kind of a group effort) and partially me fulfilling my need to write a spanking fic for every fandom I get into. This is shameless, dirty smut. Please enjoy!

The muggy, Georgia air is rife with the sweet smell of summer and the taste of victory as Bill steers the car through the empty streets back towards their hotel. Holden has the window rolled down, his alcohol-flushed cheeks turned toward the relief of the breeze. A drunken haze swims in his brain, but it isn’t quite enough to slow or dull the euphoric rush of excitement in his chest. He’s still riding high on the adrenaline of the interview, the moment when Devier realized his fate was sealed with the revelation of the rock coming into view beyond the sweep of the girl’s yellow coat. 

Holden casts a glance across the car to Bill. He’s driving because he’s not as drunk as Holden; in fact, beneath the yellow snippets of the street lamps flashing by, he looks stone cold sober, his hands steady on the steering wheel, his jaw set in that irritated scowl that’s been hovering since the Speck interview. 

Holden frowns, annoyance lapping against the lazy slosh of bourbon. 

“Aren’t you happy Devier confessed?” He asks, shifting against the leather seat to face Bill. 

“Yeah, I’m happy we put a child rapist and killer behind bars.” Bill says, “Why wouldn’t I be?” 

“You don’t look happy.” 

Bill takes a drag of his cigarette, and blows smoke out of the corner of his mouth. His mouth purses like he wants to say something, but he just keeps driving instead. 

Holden huffs out a sigh. “Why do I get the feeling you’re mad at me?” 

“I’m not mad.” 

“God, you’re worse than Debbie.” 

The remark bites out into the dense shadows blanketing the car as they turn off the main thoroughfare and into the graveled parking lot of the hotel. The car lurches to a stop, and Bill throws the gearshift into park. 

“You know, Holden, a bit of humility wouldn’t hurt you.” Bill says, his gaze cutting through the darkness to pin down the giddy flutter in Holden’s chest. 

“I’m not allowed to be proud of our work?” Holden asks, “We just locked down a conviction. Devier can’t hurt any other little girls. That doesn’t feel like a victory to you?” 

Bill shakes his head, and inhales smoke. “If you don’t get why I’m frustrated, then I won’t waste my breath explaining it to you.” 

He shoves the car door open with his shoulder, and steps out. Holden’s shoulders tense as the car door slams shut behind him, causing the whole car to reverberate with the force of it. A petulant annoyance rises up in his chest, fostered by drunken, untethered inhibitions. He’d walked out of the Devier confession on cloud nine, expecting some kind of reward once they were alone. This needy quiver in his belly that he’s been carrying around since they arrived in Adairsville has grown into something swollen and unavoidable, an intractable ache like a finger pressed into a bruise. 

Holden climbs out of the car, and shuffles across the gravel to where Bill is unlocking the door of their hotel room. The air is heavy between them, tension stretching out against the whir of crickets winding through the summer breeze. 

Bill holds the door open for him, and Holden wanders past him to bat the light switch. The overhead light blinks on, and Holden cuts Bill a gaze past the cigarette smoke drifting in a haze from his mouth. 

“This is about what I said the interview, isn’t it?” He asks, “About a girl being old enough to-”

“You don’t have to fucking repeat it.” Bill says, holding up a hand. 

He pushes the door shut, and twists the deadbolt. 

Holden’s palms are sweating as he crosses the space between them, his hands loose at his sides but holding back intent in the minute twitch of his fingers around his cigarette. 

“It’s about that and Speck.” Bill says, “It’s about you getting cocky. You’re getting a little big for your britches, don’t you think?” 

“So, you want to talk about my britches.” Holden says, slowly lifting his gaze from the carpet to meet Bill’s stern glare. 

Bill’s mouth twists as he swallows hard, something twitching and growing beyond the clench of irritation. 

“You think I need a little discipline?” Holden whispers, his throat flushing hot even as the scandalous words slip past his lips. 

Bill takes a clipped step closer, his nostrils flaring as their chests nearly touch. A sharp breaths lifts his shoulders, and he seems close to saying something serious, something to interrupt the unraveling needs captured in that bold question. 

“Go on, then.” Holden says, the encouragement spilling up his throat in a raspy plea. “Discipline me.” 

Bill reaches past him for the ash tray on the TV stand, and Holden flinches, half-expecting Bill to grab him by the throat, bark at him to stop saying such things; but he crushes his cigarette, and leans back to glare into Holden’s impertinent gaze. 

“Is that how you want to play this?” Bill asks, drawing in a steadying breath. 

Holden swallows hard. His throat is dry. “Yes.” 

Bill’s gaze lacerates him from his flushed cheeks down to the crotch of his trousers where need is beginning to visibly pulse. His mouth curls as the heated perusal makes its way back up to Holden’s anticipatory gaze. 

“Then why are you still dressed?” 

Holden’s heart kicks into a wild, thudding beat that he can feel all the way down into his belly. He reaches up with sweating hands to tug the tie loose from his throat, and tear open each button. 

Bill stands still watching him, his hands curled into fists at his sides as Holden breaks free of his shirt, and yanks at the buckle of his belt. His cock is already throbbing against the thin weight of his briefs as he drops the trousers, and kicks them away from his ankles. 

Bill grabs him by the wrist just as Holden reaches for the waistband of his underwear. Holden stumbles after him as he leads them to the bed, dragging Holden around by his wrist to make him face the mattress. 

“Bill-” He begins, his gaze straining out of the corner of his eye to glimpse Bill just behind him. 

“Did I say you could speak?” 

Holden clamps his lips over his mouth. A flush of heat pours down his body like molten lava, washing every inch of him with flinching need. Beyond this hotel he might have had the urge to rebel against that question, but they’re alone and he’s getting what he wanted in one way or another; besides, deep inside, in places he doesn’t look very often, he likes it when Bill takes on this authoritative role, commanding his desires, controlling his needs and even his voice. 

“Put your arms behind your back.” Bill says, his voice softer this time, but no less firm. 

Holden carefully peeks over his shoulder as he follows Bill’s order. Bill takes off his tie, and slides the knot free. The silky fabric glides beneath Holden’s wrists, and he closes his eyes as the sensation alone creates a lush visual of how the night is going to be spent. 

The tie winds around his wrists, looping back and forth over itself halfway up Holden’s forearms until just enough of the ends are left for Bill to knot the binding into an unbreakable trap. 

Holden shifts his shoulders back against the taut bondage as he awaits his next instructions. His cock is rock hard and leaping against his briefs, and he regrets pushing Bill just hard enough to make him want to put these type of restrictive limits in place. He won’t be able to touch himself while Bill fucks into him, won’t be able to reach for the pleasure and push it within his reach. He’ll be helpless, at Bill’s mercy - and based on their conversation in the car, there might be little mercy to be found tonight. 

Holden muffles a whimper as Bill grasps him by the elbow, and urges him forward onto the bed. Holden gets his knees onto the mattress, and crawls forward only a few strides before Bill pushes him face down into the sheets. Turning his cheek against the mattress, Holden peers over his shoulder to glimpse Bill taking off his shirt and trousers.

His breath rushes hot against the sheets as the staggering tempo of his needs bursts into a painful throb between his thighs. His bent-over, helpless position urges the arousal squirming in his belly toward something wilder, something twisted that he can’t shove down. 

Crawling onto the mattress behind him, Bill grazes his palm over Holden’s backside barely shielded by the cotton stretch of his underwear. 

Holden bites back a moan, but can’t stop the shuddering arch of his hips leaning toward the caress weighted with potential. 

“Is this what you were hoping for?” Bill asks, his voice a raspy whisper that makes Holden’s insides clench with piercing need. 

“Yes.” Holden whispers, his arms straining against the silk embrace of the tie. “Please, Bill, I want …” 

Bill sighs quietly as Holden’s voice tapers off into a moan. He likes it when Holden pleads though he never admits it aloud; Holden can hear it in that trembling exhale, the way his petting grows heavier against the bare skin of his thigh. 

Holden bites his lower lip, focusing on the faint sting of pain to control the panicked need fluttering in his belly. He draws in a deep breath through his nostrils even as his brain screams in aroused agony at the slight stroke of Bill’s fingers along his flank. 

Bill’s touch journeys back up the swell of his ass cheek until his fingers reach the elastic waistband of his underwear. Holden’s body tenses as the fabric stretches beneath his grip, slowly sliding over his backside and down his thighs. The underwear briefly catch on the jutting swell of his erection before snapping free and jolting a trembling whimper from Holden’s throat.

Bill lets the underwear collapse around Holden’s knees and the air caress bare skin for a long, torturous moment before the warm weight of his palm settles over Holden’s ass cheek. 

Holden presses his forehead into the mattress, forcing back the building cry in his chest that wants to break down into a pleading mess of desperate needs. It will come soon enough, and the air is electric with it, the promise of pain and pleasure crackling in between the microscopic space between his skin and Bill’s palm. 

“What do you want?” Bill says. 

Holden opens his eyes, having half-forgotten that he’d even tried to vocalize his wants only moments ago. 

Bill’s thumb strokes along his cleft, barely missing his puckered hole. 

“Fuck …” Holden gasps, his hips curling instinctively toward the caress. “I want … I want you to-”

Bill is patient as Holden stammers, his hand stroking steadily across flinching skin. 

“Do it.” Holden whispers, choking on the need pounding through his chest. “Punish me. Make it hurt.” 

A dull roar grows in the back of his mind, the sound of his own needs and shame rising up to clash against one another. His face burns, but his cock is throbbing so hard that it hurts, and already he can feel the sting across his flesh, the way it simmers before melting into pleasure. 

Bill draws in a raspy breath that cuts through the humming silence. His thumb strokes across Holden’s backside, thoughtful and tempered. There’s control in that hand, the one that deals out the pain and the pleasure in equal turns. Sometimes, Holden wishes Bill would come as untethered as he does when the prospect of this provocative, dirty little act comes up, but he’s always firm, always calm, always measured in every strike and stroke. 

Holden whimpers as Bill’s palm leaves him, letting the skin cool against empty air. His chest pounds in the brief seconds, anticipating what’s coming next, tensing for it, already imagining how it will feel when Bill’s done. 

His other hand presses against the middle of Holden’s back, pinning down the quivering arch of his spine. Holden can feel Bill’s erection trapped in his boxers nudging at his thigh. Then, those little details get lost to Holden’s recollection because his palm comes down, cracking across Holden’s bare, vulnerable skin with little preparation or prelude. 

Holden cries out, his whole body lurching beneath the blow though more out of the shocked arousal that jolts through him rather than pain. The first one never hurts quite too badly because Bill likes to build up to it, likes to dole them out harder as they go on, until Holden’s skin is raw and flaming beneath his palm. 

Gasping in a breath, Holden tries to prepare himself, but Bill’s hand is already swinging back down again. The fleshy crack of skin-on-skin cuts through the taut silence of the motel room, followed by Holden’s wounded moan. He digs his knees into the mattress, bracing himself; still, his hips rock forward when the spanking continues, Bill’s palm coming down with measured force. 

Holden squirms when Bill hesitates, letting him ache with the anticipation. Despite his eagerness, Holden cries out when the strained silence breaks, and Bill’s palm collides with his writhing backside. 

“Oh, fuck.” Holden whimpers, the curse shuddering from his chest. 

His body instinctively curls away when Bill’s palm cracks across his skin again, setting the patch of flesh aflame with hot, tingling pain. 

The heel of Bill’s other hand digs into his spine, forcing him back down into submission, and Holden caves, his hips rising up to meet the next hard swat. 

Holden groans into the sheets, but all he can think is  _ more, more, more.  _ The dizzying urge pushes through his veins, flooding south to meet the prickle of struck fresh. His cock leaps as Bill’s hand cuts through the air to send fresh sparks of humming pain flying across Holden’s backside. 

Holden tears his mouth away from the sheets, to gasp a sound of pleasure. His half-shut, hazy gaze drifts over his shoulder to glimpse Bill kneeling behind him, his hand cocked back. His eyes are focused on Holden’s upraised ass, taking in the flush and quiver of flesh when he brings his hand down again. 

Holden’s mouth stretches open as Bill’s hand swings downward, and he watches it collide. Sensation explodes across Holden’s senses, pain needling down through layers of skin and echoing through his bones. This is the moment where he starts to lose track of how many times Bill has spanked him, when he’s breathing for the next crack of pain, when he can’t think of anything except the satisfaction gripping his chest with every strike. 

Bill’s palm falls into a repetitious rhythm that makes Holden’s body leap like a helpless puppet tugged on a string. The sparking hum of pain builds across his skin, settling in like a thousand tiny needles pricking tender flesh. It seems unbearable at first, the unrelenting crack of Bill’s palm against vulnerable tender skin, but the longer it stretches on, the hotter his skin gets, the deeper the igniting pain sinks in until it’s fiery down into his bones and melding into the desperate thrum of his cock going mad with arousal. 

Bill pauses just long enough for Holden to suck in a gasping breath, and moan out his agonized satisfaction. 

“Does that hurt yet?” He murmurs, tracing his thumb across hot, rosy skin. 

Holden swallows back the pooling saliva in the back of his throat, and shakes his head against the sheets. Casting a delirious gaze over his shoulder, he whispers, “No. I need more.” 

Bill’s jaw ripples. His gaze scours Holden’s flushed red backside before drifting down to glimpse the hazy need in Holden’s eyes. 

“Are you sure about that?” He murmurs, drifting his fingers over Holden’s skin. 

Holden flinches, and he bites back a smile. He doesn’t give Holden a chance to retract the statement, resuming the punishment despite that knowing remark. His palm cracks across raw flesh, jolting a high-pitched whimper from Holden’s throat.

Holden presses his forehead into the mattress, hiding the grimaces that crosses his face with every spanking. He’s already lost count, but the number doesn’t matter; he’s tracking the severity in the wild pulse of his cock throbbing in raw desperation between his thighs, in the threshold of pain that he’s inching himself closer and closer towards. He can feel his skin burning beneath the duress of Bill’s palm, but the harder the strikes comes down the closer to pleasure he feels, his whole body drifting into a tingling sea of radiating pain and need. 

His eyelids drift open when Bill stops again, letting his heated skin cool against the air. He realizes his mouth is open, drooling saliva into the sheets. Fractured breaths stagger from his chest, wound-up exhilaration pounding through his blood. His backside hurts, his cock hurts, but it feels too good to deny, and he already doesn’t want this night to end. 

Bill’s palm soothes the burning flesh with a gentle caress, and Holden flinches, sucking in a sharp breath. 

“Don’t try to tell me that doesn’t hurt.” Bill admonishes quietly. 

“It does.” Holden whispers. “But, fuck, it feels good.” 

Bill mutters a pleased sound in the back of his throat as his palm wanders over Holden’s battered skin, taking in the rosy expanse of what he’s done. 

“If you keep doing that, I might come.” Holden says, sliding his eyes open to peer over his shoulder at Bill. 

Bill’s gaze cuts down to meet Holden’s, and he chuckles softly, devilishly. “Oh, you think I’m going to let you come right away, do you?” 

Holden purses his lips as a hot flush surges up his throat and cheeks. His pulse spikes, and he squirms against the binding of the tie. 

“Do you?” Bill presses, letting his fingertips wander between Holden’s thighs and against the underside of his swollen balls. 

Holden’s hips leap against the feathery touch, and a twisted whine stretches from his mouth. “Fuck, okay. No, no I don’t.” 

“Good.” Bill says, sounding quite pleased. “Because I’m not. Not after your behavior these past few days.” 

Holden doesn’t get a chance to protest as Bill’s thumb rubs against his hole, stealing away any sense of focus or forethought. His fingers grasp Holden’s asscheek, stretching him open to the hot spill of his breath. 

Holden’s reeling brain is still so tangled up in the smoldering pain from the punishment that he barely registers what’s coming next before Bill’s breath segues into the wet press of his tongue. He gasps aloud as the warmth shatters the pain, and the arousal comes thick and heady rather than sharp and agonizing. He arches back to meet the slick stroke of Bill’s mouth against him, a moan stretching from his throat and turning into a strangled gasp as Bill’s tongue swirls against him. The gesture seems to contradict his statement, but Holden knows this generous pleasuring will be short-lived, that he’s just getting slicked up and worked open right before Bill’s cock goes in, and he gets relentlessly fucked into the sheets. He can still enjoy it though; he enjoys every second of Bill’s hands and mouth on him, no matter where it’s leading, no matter how briefly it stays. 

Bill’s tongue circles his hole, stroking steadily for a long moment before he takes the puckered flesh in his mouth and sucks down. 

“Oh God …” Holden’s groan is muffled in the sheets, and he arches back against the sweet pressure of Bill’s mouth sliding over him, the faint scrape of his teeth teasing the tender flesh right after. 

Bill lets him go, and Holden’s flesh quivers before being attacked again with the hard stroke of his tongue. Bill grips his shuddering hips, holding him still as his tongue pushes back and forth against the taut opening, slowly pushing its way inside. Gradually, Holden’s body submits to the slick, wet caress, and he opens up just enough for Bill’s tongue to push into him. 

“Oh fuck …” Holden gasps. He thrusts back against the wet pressure of Bill’s tongue, and his wrists buck at the tight bind of the tie. His first, instinctive urge is to reach down and touch his throbbing, aching cock, to urge himself over the edge while Bill’s mouth devours him; everything inside him aches as he’s restricted from doing just that, left to balance on the knife’s edge of arousal that feels both torturously far from climax and so terribly close. 

“Oh, please.” The strangled moan slips from his chest before he can stop it. 

The pressure of Bill’s mouth lifts as he draws back to gaze down Holden’s sweat-lined, quivering spine to see his mouth stretched open in a whine against the sheets. 

“Please what?” He murmurs, dropping a kiss against Holden’s raw ass cheek. 

“Please, I … I’m so hard.” Holden pants, shifting his legs farther apart and arching his hips up to expose his throbbing length. “Bill, it hurts.” 

Bill’s breath spills down his cleft and against the underside of his cock with a muted chuckle. 

Holden closes his eyes, fighting back the rising tide of tortured panic. Maybe if he pleads in just the right tone of voice his orgasm won’t get delayed by another hour; or maybe his whimpering will push Bill to do exactly that. Maybe that’s what he wants; maybe he likes the pain too fucking much for his own good. 

Bill brushes the back of his knuckles down Holden’s saliva-slick cleft, over his balls, against the twitching shaft of his cock. Holden’s hips jolt against the touch as if burned, and he stifles a sharp cry in the sheets. Bill’s fingers wander further down, finding the swollen head dripping with pre-cum. Holden’s hips lean desperately into the caress, searching for a firm grasp around him. He only needs a few purposeful strokes before he explodes, but Bill’s touch retreats just as his belly begins to clamp with expanding need. 

“Fuck.” Holden groans into the sheets, pushing his forehead into the mattress. 

Bill leans back on his heels. “You did this to yourself.” 

Holden stifles a smart retort into the sheets. Such a response would more than likely get him another round of spankings, and as much as he’d enjoyed the first set, his cock feels like it’s about to explode with every pulse of blood getting shoved into the already engorged flesh. 

He glances over his shoulder as Bill slides off the edge of the mattress to find Holden’s suitcase sitting in the corner by the desk. He takes his time laying the suitcase down on its back, sliding the zipper open, lifting the lid, and locating the Vaseline from among the starched shirts and ironed trousers. 

Holden bites at his lower lip as a squirming anticipation rolls through his belly. When Bill rises to his feet and approaches the bed, the pounding need in his chest drops with a thud into his belly. His pulse ricochets through his veins, heightening the roar of desire ringing in his head. 

His wrists twist against the silk entrapment of the tie as Bill crawls back onto the bed, unscrewing the lid of the Vaseline.

Dipping his fingers into the lubricant, Bill smears his hand across Holden’s exposed hole gleaming with saliva. His fingers massage in a taut circle, lathering him with Vaseline before they nudge up against the opening. 

Holden’s entire body shudders with a thrill of pleasure as Bill’s finger breaches him. 

“God, yes.” Holden gasps, his breath shuddering from his lungs. He pushes back against the sweet pressure, his eyes rolling back when Bill’s touch narrowly grazes his prostate. 

Bill grips his bare hip with the other hand, steadying Holden’s trembling body while pumping his finger into him, quickly and steadily working him open. In a few moments, his middle finger is pushing inside with the index, stretching open the taut muscle and thrusting in deep. 

Holden moans aloud, his hips rocking back enthusiastically against Bill’s grip. His brain has gone hazy and melted with need, the pain and pleasure amalgamating into a heady blur of desire that feels like a dull, constant ache he’s desperate to relieve. Just the push of Bill’s fingers rubs raw that sense of desperation, torturing him with the promise of more but leaving his cock to writhe in dissatisfied torment between his thighs. 

“Please … oh please.” He says it, not caring if Bill enjoys it too much or if he’ll use it later to tease or torment Holden with his own twisted desire. “Please, fuck me.” 

And Bill has some kind of mercy because relents just long enough to smear his own cock in Vaseline, and push the blunt, pulsing head up against Holden’s quivering hole. The hot pressure starts, slow and steady, pushing past the initial clamp of violated flesh and muscle before Holden’s body submits, and he’s open, gaping hungrily to the long, thick shaft of Bill’s cock filling him. 

Holden gasps and moans, his spine collapsing into a sharp, needy arch that eagerly pushes back into Bill’s cock. He thrusts back until he feels Bill’s hips against his backside, his insides so full of Bill’s cock that he can feel the pulse of it in his belly, the borders of his body trembling on the verge of breaking under the pressure. 

One hand squeezes Holden’s hip while the other slides down his back to grasp his nape. Bill’s hand curls around the back of his neck, pinning him down, and Holden can hardly breathe as he begins to thrust, his hips slapping against Holden’s raw, naked backside each time.

Muffling his staggered cries into the sheets, Holden arches back to meet Bill’s cock. Every bit of him is humming with the need to please, to feel Bill’s cock pulsing with hunger inside him, and then exploding with satisfaction when the sensation of Holden’s hole squeezing around him becomes too much. He can’t think past the next seconds to his own orgasm as every thrust jolts through his body, hitting deep and hard, splitting him in two; and Holden longs for the damage, to feel his body breaking under the unrelenting, powerful blows, to feel himself coming apart while his own orgasm lingers out there somewhere in a limbo between Bill’s frustration and mercy. He doesn’t regret pushing Bill to this point, even with his body aching under every thrust, his cock rocking helplessly against his belly, his need spilling over into every fiber of him and melting his brain down into a delirious, drunken haze of overstimulation and desperation; this is the moment he craves, when everything spins just beyond his control and his body is alive in a way that he can never match with anything else. 

Holden’s incoherent sobs of arousal break off into a gasp as Bill’s hammering thrusts intensify right before they fade into pleasure; for a few moments, he feels like he just might break under the pressure, the squeal of the bed springs underneath of them matching the threadbare borders of his body buckling, the roar of raw sensation and frenzied need in the back of his mind. He gasps in a shaking breath as Bill’s thrusts taper off into jagged, sloppy convulsions gripped by orgasm. The wet heat comes next, pumping him full and spilling in excess down the back of his thighs. 

The overworked scream of his body fades as Bill pulls out, and his exhilarated breaths come in sharp focus over the buzz in Holden’s ears. His hand lingers against Holden’s hip, patting gently in a silent affirmation. 

Holden lets his eyes slip shut as his body melts down against the sheets, trembling with adrenaline and barely contained need. The steady tempo between his thighs has yet to abate, barely tempered by the brutal fucking he’s just taken. 

His cock squirms against his thigh as he steadies his breathing, and slowly opens his eyes again to scan the room. 

Bill bends down to retrieve his cigarettes from the pocket of his discarded shirt, and wrestles the lighter out of his trouser pocket. As he lights up, his gaze cuts through the haze of smoke to regard Holden’s limp, trembling body sprawled on the mattress, his arms fighting against the tie holding him back from touching himself. 

Sauntering back to the bed, Bill tugs his cigarette from his mouth and lets the smoke pour freely from his lips. 

Holden bites at his lower lip, casting him a pleading gaze. 

“What?” Bill asks, bending down to brace his hand against the mattress near Holden’s head. Smoke trails between them, and Holden glares at him petulantly. “Christ, I can’t get you to shut up in the bar, and now you want to do the silent treatment? Come on, Holden, use your words.” 

“I think it’s time to untie me now.” Holden says, “Or suck me off. Or anything. I just want to come, Bill; can you stop gloating, and just make me come already?” 

Bill bites back a smile. Planting his cigarette between his lips, he grabs Holden by the elbow, and turns him onto his stomach to unknot the tie. 

Holden lets out a sigh of relief as the pressure on his wrists eases. With a tug, the silky fabric unwinds from his arms, and slides away, allowing a tingling rush of blood to surge into his fingertips. 

“There. Happy?” Bill asks, straightening to watch as Holden wrestles his arms free of the tie, and discards the accessory onto the floor. 

He circles around the end of the bed, and sinks down on the mattress with his shoulders propped against the headboard. His eyes gleam gray behind a sheen of cigarette smoke, a twisted satisfaction lingering on the curve of his mouth. 

Holden pushes himself upright, displaying his hard cock jutting from between his thighs. 

“Are you going to help me with this?” He asks, dropping a hand down to graze his swollen flesh. He has to swallow back the instant moan that rises against the back of his throat as he tries to maintain a placid facade to match Bill’s casual indifference. 

Bill takes a drag of his cigarette, and lets his hand fall limply across the sheets. Blowing smoke towards the ceiling, he catches Holden’s impatient glare. 

“You asked for discipline, remember?” He says, “If you want it that badly …” 

“God, you’re mean.” Holden says, scoffing quietly. 

Bill’s mouth twitches against a smile. He knows what he’s doing. He’s fucking enjoying it. 

Holden crawls across the bed, and straddles Bill’s hips. He settles down against Bill’s hips with a heavy sigh, curling his tongue across his lower lip. 

“You’re so mean.” Holden murmurs, reaching down to grasp his twitching cock. “Look what you’ve done to me.” 

Bill’s mouth quivers softly as he presses his cigarette to his mouth, inhaling smoke with a shaky breath as Holden swipes the Vaseline, and smears a generous amount across his cock. Holden smooths his fist down the pulsing shaft, spreading the lubricant up and down the length until he’s gleaming with it, veins standing out glistening purple against the hard, pink stretch of flesh. 

Pleasure rises up quick and hot in his veins, the need hardly dulled by the brief interlude. Holden moans against the grip his teeth have on his lower lip. His head falls back and his eyes slip shut as his palm glides up and down, massaging acute arousal towards orgasm. He can feel it clamping down in his belly, everything drawing tight with anticipation. 

Bill grasps his hip as Holden’s back arches, his knees digging into the mattress and lifting his backside from Bill’s hips for mere seconds while the pleasure intensifies. As he sinks back down again, jerking harder with his fist, he slips his eyes open to glimpse Bill’s gaze focused on his wetly gleaming cock sliding in and out of his grip. He’s diligently smoking his cigarette, inhaling nicotine as fast as Holden can whimper and writhe, breathing out smoke from his mouth and nostrils like some kind of fiery beast. 

Holden’s hips rock into the stroke of his hand, his body reacting eagerly and beyond his control. Watching Bill watching him fulfills some sick, voyeuristic fantasy he’d imagined more than once during road school. He’d “accidentally” left the bathroom door open on more than one occasion, or masturbated beneath the sheets while Bill slept just feet away. He’d walked along the border of getting caught, so close until he’d been ensnared, and now this performance feels like yet another chapter in a raunchy book, a natural continuation spilling over from his grade school attempts at getting Bill’s attention; and it looks like Bill is enjoying it as much as he is, his mouth pursing around his cigarette, stamping out a groan before it can rise, the need reflected in his eyes a near perfect match for the exhilaration surging through Holden’s chest. As if the bondage and spanking wasn’t enough, it’s just another addition to his own growing list of deviances, and Holden wonders how many he can expose in himself before it’s too much, before he can’t face himself in the mirror. The guilty thought isn’t enough to stop the pleasure already soaring through his chest, bursting free of his cock, and spilling copious spurts of cum across Bill’s belly and chest. 

Bill sits up against the headboard as Holden’s orgasm erupts, his hand joining with Holden’s to stroke the pleasure through to the end. Holden spasms in his grasp, every fierce burst of pleasure rippling through him like an electric current. 

As it seeps away into a low hum of satisfaction, Bill’s palm clutches his cheek. He kisses Holden hard on the mouth before nuzzling against his jaw and throat to breathe hot, raspy breaths down Holden’s sweating neck. 

“That was fucking beautiful.” He whispers, his mouth smearing messy kisses down Holden’s perspiring neck and shoulder.

Holden leans into the embrace, relishing the tenderness in Bill’s touch after the pain he’d put himself through. The raw ache in his backside lingers on even as his sated cock quickly forgets his torment in the wake of climax, but he likes the way it feels, the way Bill’s handprint is invisibly stamped into his skin like a brand of ownership. 

Holden utters a sigh as Bill leans back to look him in the eyes. 

“Are you still mad at me?” He asks softly, hoping the bat of his eyelashes will dispel any lingering animosity. 

“For what you said in the interview?” Bill says, leaning back against the headboard. He takes a drag of his dwindling cigarette. “It’s not that easy, Holden; you’re not out of the hot seat yet.” 

“Jesus. You’re unbelievable.” Holden says, sliding off his lap. 

“I’m unbelievable?” Bill echoes, incredulously. “You were talking about dead a twelve-year old girl. Doesn’t that make you a little bit sick?” 

“And this doesn’t?” Holden retorts, sweeping a hand across their naked bodies sprawled on the sheets in post-sex disarray. 

“Holden.” Bill says, reprimanding. 

“What? Me saying ‘pussy’ makes you blush, but not tying me up and spanking me?” 

Bill swings his legs over the edge of the bed, putting his back to Holden as he stubs his cigarette out in the ashtray. 

“I’m not having this conversation.” 

“I’m just saying, sometimes we have to stomach things for the sake of the interview. But look at the end result.” 

“I’m not encouraging you.” Bill says, casting a sharp glance over his shoulder. “The ends don’t always justify the means.” 

Holden glances over the bed, the disheveled sheets, the wrinkled tie lying on the floor.  _ Sometimes it does.  _ He thinks. 

Fine. Whatever. I’m getting a shower.” Holden says. 

Bill grunts a reply, and Holden goes into the bathroom before he can think about reigniting the argument. The disagreements never last long, and if he lets Bill stew long enough, he’ll get over his grievances eventually. He stays mad just long enough to use it to his advantage, for both of them to turn his frustration into something illicit and dangerous. 

Holden showers for a long time, scrubbing the hotel soap smelling of vanilla and honey into his skin until the sweat and release are washed down the drain. The wash cloth grazes across his backside, and he mutes a pained sound in the back of his throat as the slight friction reminds him of the raw ache of Bill’s hand coming down. 

Holden braces his hands against the cool, ceramic tile, and lowers his head. The water pounds across the back of his neck as he draws in a steadying breath. The rushed, desperate moments slow to a crawl in his mind, every one of them etching themselves across the back of his eyelids in unforgettable, red ink. What they’re doing is wrong in about every book worth considering, in the eyes of the law and in the eyes of the FBI. It’s grotesque and deviant and criminal. But it doesn’t feel wrong when he’s doing it, and though he’s never broken a law in his life, he feels like some kind of defiant bandit, the two of them traipsing across the country like Bonnie and Clyde, desecrating every hotel they stay in. The shame has yet to come, and maybe Bill is right; maybe he’s getting too cocky, flying too close to the sun. He can’t hold off consequences forever, but maybe he can for one more night. 

Holden climbs out of the shower once the water starts to run cold, and towels off before wandering back into the hotel room. 

Bill is reclining on the bed with the television on. A black-and-white war film is playing, the muffled sounds of explosions and yelling emanating from the screen while pale light flashes across Bill’s distracted gaze. 

Holden puts on a pair of pajamas, and crawls onto the bed beside him. 

Bill is smoking again, the gray cloud of his breath spilling past his lips with a heavy sigh. He looks tired, and maybe he’s done being angry for tonight. Holden decides to push the limits by scooting across the mattress to curl up against his side. 

After a moment, Bill slides his arm around Holden’s shoulders, and pulls him close. Holden closes his eyes while the distant din of the war film melds into a hum over the sound of his conscience jostling from the back of his mind. He pushes it down, willfully ignoring consequences for this moment of satisfaction. Tonight, he’s gotten everything that he wants and maybe a bit more; if tomorrow looks darker because of what he’s done, it’s not for him to think about right now. They’ll go back home and pick up the next interview or consult; and maybe once they’re back on the road, he’ll find a new reason to make Bill mad. 

~the end~

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! :)
> 
> I'm [prinxcesskayy](https://prinxcesskayy.tumblr.com//) on Tumblr!


End file.
